The Truant Officer (29 page)

The plane had been evacuated. The authorities in the gate area were questioning the passengers. Ziegler led her back to the rear lavatory and showed her Ron Treadwell—Darren McLaughlin’s best friend—who had a butcher knife lodged in his head.

They handed her the note:
I thought I told you not to talk to the feds, McLaughlin.

Dava moved to the body and appeared to be examining it. “Looks like the work of the Russians, no doubt.”

“Ron Treadwell, forty years old from Chandler, Arizona. He was the pilot. No criminal record. Not sure how he relates to the Russian mob,” Ziegler stated curiously.

“There are confidential items I can’t discuss, due to witness protection,” Dava deflected, but she was concentrating more on the pocket of Treadwell’s jacket. She removed his cell phone and stealthily slipped it into her jacket pocket. The phone contained the pictures and messages from Kelli. She couldn’t help but to feel like someone was watching over her today.

Now she needed to get to Nick. She complimented Ziegler on how he had things so fabulously under control, and explained that she needed to leave for important business, but they would touch base later in the afternoon. They shook hands and she was off.

The place was now swarming with federal agents—many were Dava’s colleagues. She greeted a few of them as she tried to pass through the gate area, but while getting to Nick and Lilly was top priority, it was more important not to arouse suspicion. She would catch up with them soon enough, and she was confident she would beat Parmalov to them. Although, she had to admit that this strike on Treadwell was an impressive move by Parmalov and his people. It was acting as the perfect distraction, throwing her off the main goal—to get to Nick.

Suddenly phones began ringing and beepers started going off. It was an emergency of some sort. She couldn’t help but wonder if the commotion was because they had learned of a double-agent named Dava Lazinski, who worked for the Sarvydas family.

Chapter 67

“It’s Zubov,” shouted an FBI agent. “He’s in the airport.”

Dava held back a sigh of relief.

They now had their number one suspect in Treadwell’s murder. But once again, they were thinking on the surface, in direct contrast to the Russian Mafiya. Viktor had often told her that the FBI was playing checkers, while the Russians were mastering chess. They had the wrong guy...again.

Dava followed. Not doing so would be deemed peculiar behavior, especially since this was obviously connected to her case. She took one last look at Nick’s empty gate, feeling conflicted.

They spotted Zubov just outside of a Hudson News in a wheelchair, wearing a wig of long hair and the look of a homeless man. “Freeze,” yelled the FBI leader.

Zubov, always the contrarian, began wheeling away with impressive speed. Dava assumed the wheelchair was a prop, but she couldn’t imagine him going any faster on foot. He bowled over travelers and cut corners like a speed skater. He expertly maneuvered the chair down an escalator, and wheeled toward the baggage claim. Where he was headed was anybody’s guess.

Crowds continued to clear. Taking a shot at him was a near impossibility. He was swerving left and right at high speed and used the crowds as cover. The FBI looked like bullies chasing a handicapped man.

Zubov plowed past security. He was heading toward international flights. Dava now understood. It was brilliant.

Zubov continued toward an Air Israel flight that was deplaning. This plane carried Israeli pop star Natalie Gold—the latest protégée of Viktor Sarvydas.

They all came to a stop at the ropes that were set up to wall off the slobbering media, along with clashing fans and protestors. Zubov was able to use the mob of spectators as a blocker to move safely to the gate area.

Natalie Gold exited her plane, surrounded by a halo of charisma. She was also encircled by a cluster of men wearing military fatigues, and carrying assault rifles—not something normally seen in the United States. If Zubov planned to harm the pop star then it was up to these sharpshooters to protect her. The FBI could do nothing now.

But there would be no confrontation. Natalie headed right toward Zubov. She bent down and hugged him as he remained in his chair, a large smile on her face.
She sings, she dances, she hugs the handicapped!

Their joyful reunion was short-lived. The FBI moved in and took Zubov into custody. Dava would join the federal team in interrogating Zubov.

Nick and Lilly would have to wait. She would catch up with them later.

Chapter 68

Eicher met Dava outside the interrogation room deep beneath JFK Airport. Even though their case was looking hopeless, it was still nice to see a friendly face. He hadn’t seen her since yesterday afternoon, and since they had spent practically every working day together for the past year, he was feeling a little separation anxiety.

He’d come straight from court. The defense made a motion to drop the case, based on the whole rigmarole of the last couple of days. The judge said he would take the motion under advisement and have a ruling in the near future. Based on the stern lecture Eicher received about the “reckless circus atmosphere” the judge believed he was responsible for, he wasn’t feeling confident.

After he informed Dava of the latest undoing, she filled him in on everything from Oklahoma to Ron Treadwell’s murder, and the Zubov wheelchair race through the airport.

Eicher bounced his theory off Dava, the one about Parmalov trying to take control of the Sarvydas Empire.

Dava didn’t seem so sure. “Then Zubov wouldn’t be a suspect in the Treadwell murder, unless he swapped sides. And if he did, it wouldn’t make sense for him to kill Dantelli, because Parmalov would want a trial to put Alexei away, and Dantelli would need to be alive to testify at it. Plus, Zubov picked up Natalie Gold, who is Sarvydas’ latest protégé, and word would have trickled back to Sarvydas by now if he’d switched teams. So the only possibility with your theory is that Zubov didn’t kill Treadwell, and that doesn’t seem to add up.”

Eicher nodded, soaking in her words. He hated it when she was so logical.
And right!

They walked into the interrogation room and were greeted by Ziegler from the NYPD. A couple of FBI agents were also present.

Eicher scanned the room. He first noticed Natalie Gold, who lived up to expectations, at least physically. Even the long flight from Israel didn’t diminish her beauty or wrinkle her miniscule dress. A singer must have good lungs, and she sure had those too.

He didn’t want to take his eyes off her. Not because of her beauty—it was a ploy to avoid having to look into Zubov’s soulless eyes. Just being in the same room with him made Eicher’s skin crawl.

Natalie Gold spoke first, “My lawyer is on his way. If this is what America is all about, then no wonder people around the world are always burning your flag.”

“Mr. Zubov is a lead suspect in a murder case, which makes you an accessory,” Eicher fired back.

“I know nothing of any murder. But I do know that Zubov was sent to pick me up by Viktor Sarvydas, a man you Americans have treated with utter disrespect, despite all he’s done for your country.”

“Yeah, he’s some hero,” Eicher quipped, then found the courage to face the man in the suit. He looked like your average business traveler—having shed his disguise—but Eicher had seen his type of business in many gruesome crime scene photos. It was the work of the devil.

“So what are you really doing here, Zubov?” Eicher asked in his most forceful voice, fighting off any signs of weakness.

“How many times do I have to tell you? You think if you keep telling a rabbit he’s a pig he will oink.”

“Just humor me, Bugs.”

Zubov dramatically sighed. “I arrive on flight from Denver. My job is to pick up Natalie at gate. I arrive early because your friends come after me.”

“Denver? That’s an interesting coincidence, because Rob Bachynsky was murdered in Denver last night.”

“That’s too bad. But you know how Rob liked to play the ladies, especially the married ones. I knew eventually one of those angry husbands would get him.”

“I think you killed him.”

“How could I kill anyone in my position. I’m handicapped.”

“Why are you in a wheelchair?”

“Skiing accident—was on vacation in Colorado. I wasn’t there to kill some dumb cop.”

The comment sent the normally cool Dava over the edge. “You’re lying, you son of a bitch!”

He laughed, further infuriating her.

Eicher gave her a calming look. No good could come of fighting this monster.

“Show me your knees,” Eicher demanded.

“I don’t give it up on the first date,” Zubov replied with a grin.

“Our lawyer is going to have a field day with you, Eicher. And then I’m going to trash you in the press tonight for your police brutality,” Natalie snarled. “Your ignorance will be headlines around the world tomorrow.”

He ignored her. Although, he did notice that her accent had transformed since she arrived. She had been in America for less than an hour, but had picked up a slight twang that might be found in the Great Plains or Northern Texas. Interesting, but he moved on. This was about Zubov, not Natalie Gold.

“Skiing in Colorado after spending your morning in Las Vegas? I’m jealous. Sarvydas must take good care of you—what’s your position again?” Eicher knew Zubov was too smart to deny being in Vegas, aware that the casino cameras picked up his every move.

“I am Director of Human Resources at Sarvy Music,” he said with a grin—he was enjoying this, no doubt. He pushed a business card across the table, which Eicher examined.

“Director of Human Resources, that’s a good one,” Eicher mocked. “Did you know that while you were in Vegas, Officer Dantelli had an unfortunate accident in his pool?”

“Perhaps he don’t wait hour to swim after eating. My mother always told me that.”

Eicher pushed a couple photos back at him. They were of Dantelli’s decapitated body.

Zubov admired his work. Then bellowed, “How do you get a guinea out of the pool?”

Receiving no response, he answered his own joke, “Throw in bar of soap.” He laughed so hard he almost tipped his wheelchair over.

Eicher calmly pushed more photos across the table. “It seems you were his last visitor.”

The smile wiped from his face as he looked the photo of him entering. “Right after Nick Zellen and Lilly McLaughlin were there. No wonder I couldn’t find Dantelli to say hello. They must have killed him before I got there.”

Eicher rose to his feet and began pacing. “I understand why you killed Dantelli and Bachynsky, but I’m confused by Ron Treadwell, the pilot.”

“I don’t know what you speak of, but I do admit my doctor tell me to lose a couple pounds. He said maybe I should ron on a treadwell.”

“Tell us why you killed him!” Dava jumped back into the tiger cage.

“Check the surveillance videos, lady” he sneered. “I got off my plane and went right to Natalie’s gate. I have no time for other things. Everybody knows I have killed a lot of people,” he wagged his finger, “but I have
never
killed an innocent person! This Ron Treadwell you speak of sounds like an innocent person.”

Eicher was about to follow up about the note left in Treadwell’s skull, when the doors swung open and a portly man in a rumpled suit barged in like he owned the place. His balding head glared from the sharp lighting of the interrogation room.

Eicher groaned.

Chapter 69

“Don’t answer that question!” famed trial lawyer Barney Cook shouted out.

Zubov didn’t seem happy that someone was raining on his parade. “Go fuck yourself, Barney. I’ll answer any question I want.”

“Like it or not, Zubov, I’m your lawyer. And Mr. Sarvydas says you won’t answer that question.”

“I only take orders from the don’s son these days.”

“I’m hired by the entire Sarvydas estate, and you will not answer.”

Zubov quieted. Even he didn’t cross Sarvydas.

Cook supplied airport surveillance tapes, which confirmed that Zubov was never near the airline in which Treadwell was murdered. He laughed off Eicher’s assertion that wearing a disguise indicated flight, and therefore, guilt.

Zubov butted in, “I’m a celebrity. I need to wear disguise for privacy. People are always bugging me, please sign an autograph, Zubov—please kill my wife for me, Zubov—it gets very tiring.”

Natalie stood, and moved to a pushing position behind Zubov. They were walking out of here and they knew it, even if one of them would do it in a wheelchair. But before they did, Cook and Eicher’s cell phones simultaneously rang. Eicher listened to the news and his face sunk. He avoided any eye contact with Dava, who appeared eager to hear the news. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her.

Cook spoke for him, “That was the judge. Alexei Sarvydas is being released—the case has been dismissed.”

Natalie immediately began wheeling Zubov toward the door. “We have to go pick up Alexei. He is going to be my date to my party tonight.”

Zubov craned his head back toward Eicher and Dava. “I just want to remind you one more time. I have never killed an innocent person.”

“What do you want, a medal?” Dava fired back at him. “Now get out of my face!”

When they were gone, Dava marched toward the door.

“Where are you going?” Eicher asked.

“I’m going to find Nick. This thing isn’t over yet!”

Chapter 70

In the midst of the chaos, Darren and Becks were able to slip out of the plane unnoticed. But the gate area was overcrowding with police and airport security—there was no way to avoid them. Darren knew he didn’t have time for their inquiries about Treadwell’s death—he needed to get to Lilly before she ended up with a similar fate.

As if repulsed by the sight of him, the authorities began running in the opposite direction. Darren had no idea where they were headed, but wasn’t complaining. It was the small miracle that he needed.